Taylor Swift’s new album, The Life of a Showgirl, is a more enjoyable listen if you don’t take Taylor Swift — the artist, the persona, the person — so seriously.
That task, however, is difficult for two reasons: first, many folklore-era fans have leaned in way too hard to the idea of Swift as an Intellectual Poet Genius whose big words signify profundity. Second, Swift herself has imposed an intense amount of pressure on making a perfect, concise pop album in Showgirl.
Still, there is fun to be had on this record if you let yourself have it. On “Opalite,” she posits that “failure brings freedom,” and this is a Swift who is deeply unafraid to fail, to the point where she sets herself up to do it. Her relentless ambition will catch her every single time.
Swift is perpetually responding to whatever the most recent criticism of her is — Miss Americana was a response to people calling out her lack of political engagement. Folklore was a response to the lyrical criticisms of Lover, which called her songwriting childish on the big singles. Showgirl is a reaction to what she called the “data dump” of Tortured Poets, with its 31 songs, and the public opinion that her creative relationship with Jack Antonoff had run its course.
On New Heights, she described reuniting with past collaborators Max Martin and Shellback: “We knew that we had to bring the best ideas we’ve ever had. I also know the pressure I’m putting on this record by saying that but I don’t care because I love it that much … every single song is on this album for hundreds of reasons. That focus and that kind of discipline with creating an album and keeping the bar really high … I wanted to do an album that was so focused on quality, and the theme, and everything fitting together like a perfect puzzle.”
That is an extremely high thing to aim for, and there is beauty in the attempt, and in even naming that goal: she wants to make the best possible art in a new way every single time. I’m not sure Showgirl has the best ideas of her career, but it does have some exciting ones.
“Father Figure” is a standout that sees Swift take on the role of mob boss, gleefully making deals with the devil because her “d*ck’s bigger.” It both allows Swift to comment on music industry dynamics and the weaponization of “loyalty” to keep younger artists caged in, and to mock the idea that she herself is treating her musician acolytes like an all-powerful kingpin, disowning them when they dare step out of line. (Not unlike the nod she makes on “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” — “I'll sue you if you step on my lawn.”) Bravado is mostly a fun look on her (seen also on “CANCELLED!,” though perhaps to less interesting effect), recalling the winking revenge anthems of Reputation.
In a similar vein, there’s the alleged Charli XCX diss track “Actually Romantic,” which is unashamedly petty, romanticizing the way someone talks sh*t about you. “I heard you call me ‘Boring Barbie’ when the coke's got you brave” is brutal, pointed in a way that almost feels like love.
People seem to want Swift to be above the fray, not to demean herself with certain kinds of conflict, not to punch down, but to acknowledge that she is now always in a position of power and that she will never be the underdog again. This desire is understandable, especially when the songs are bad (“thank you aimee,” for example). But when they’re good? What a delight to see Swift tussle and condescend and try to convince you she doesn’t care at all.
However, the lofty showgirl concept outstrips the execution and clouds the actual music that Swift seemingly wanted to make on this record. Music that is giddy, lovestruck, and playful. Swift has long been an expert at gripping, conversation-starting album concepts, but The Life of a Showgirl repeats a Midnights mistake: the starter idea is intriguing, the visuals introduce a new aesthetic, but the actual music doesn’t match the big ideas. The “look behind the curtain” doesn’t really tell us anything new about Swift behind the stage presence and glittering lights, nothing that we didn’t get already from songs like “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” and “mirrorball.” “Elizabeth Taylor” veers into stale Taylor Swift song cosplay, covering material she wrote more elegantly on a song like Red’s “The Lucky One.”
Then there is the glaring issue of the internet-speak (which is mostly AAVE) woven into this record in ways that largely don’t work. “Eldest Daughter” continues Swift’s pattern of introspective track 5s, with a pretty guitar melody and lyrics comparing eldest daughters and “lambs to the slaughter” — until it comes to a screeching halt with the lyric, “We all dressed up as wolves and we looked fire.” It’s jarring.
Sonically, Swift, Martin, and Shellback approach Showgirl with ‘60s and ‘70s pop and rock sounds, a little Jackson 5 on the innuendo-laden “Wood,” a little Fleetwood Mac in the drum intro to “The Fate of Ophelia.” Interestingly, Swift’s protégés are now at the point where they’ve informed the current pop landscape so much that they’re being reinterpreted by its foremost producers. “Actually Romantic” could be on an Olivia Rodrigo record. “Opalite” is ABBA by way of Sabrina Carpenter. The pop girls are all in conversation with each other, like their pop forebears before them (Rubber Soul influenced Pet Sounds, which informed Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, after all).
It’s always refreshing to see Swift try a new angle on an old idea — in this case, the Martin and Shellback reunion — but the mostly mid-tempo back half of the album languishes, and the Carpenter collaboration on the title track doesn’t fully land. The duo tell the story of a fictional showgirl named Kitty who imparts advice on young fans: “You don't know the life of a showgirl, babe / And you're never, ever gonna.” That’s the fundamental bait and switch here. Maybe Swift never intended to give a real peek behind the curtain at all.
So does The Life of a Showgirl live up to Swift’s own hype? Of course not, how could it?
But the trying, the ambition, the fearlessness: it’s just never not exciting to see what Swift will think up next. This is the quintessential beauty of Taylor Swift: she’s always got something else cooking.
